13. Luke
THIRTEEN
LUKE
It’s been a rigorous few days for all of us. We haven’t had a day off since Denver, and I can tell it’s wearing on Calla. She doesn’t sleep well on the bus, but she tries to hide it as best as she can.
When she’s not performing or trying to sleep, she’s working on her album. It’s been… interesting, to say the least, watching her work. I guess I had assumed that she didn’t write her own music, but she’s actually really talented. I’ll never admit it out loud, but I’m excited to hear this finished album and hear how much different the songs sound after she gets in the studio.
When we get to the venue in Wisconsin, I walk Calla in like usual. Normally, I would stand outside her door, but she stops me before going inside.
“You want to come in? You can sit on the couch while I get ready?”
I cock a brow at her. “You sure?” I’d never want to invade her space, especially when she’s preparing for a show, but something about the way she’s asking makes me think she wants me in there with her.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s probably easier to protect me if you’re in the room, right?”
That’s not actually true, but it would be nice to not have to stand for the next two hours. And Calla and I have developed a sort of friendship recently. I actually enjoy talking to her, and I think she enjoys talking to me, too. She clearly needs that, and as much as I didn’t want to be that person for her, it just kind of happened.
I shrug like it doesn’t matter to me either way. She rolls her eyes. This is us. I like it more than I should.
I follow her in and shut the door. All of her costumes are hanging on a rack in the corner, and the large, mirrored counter is full of makeup and hair supplies. I take a seat on the couch by the door while Calla gets comfortable on a chair in front of the mirror.
She’s looking at something on her phone and gasps.
“You alright?” I ask.
She’s smiling, so I assume it’s good news. “Yeah, they just sent me some of the pictures from the photoshoot we did a few weeks ago. Wanna see?”
I shouldn’t, but I do kind of want to see them, so I look at the pictures over her shoulder.
Damn.
It’s the first and only response my brain can come up with when I see them. I know I was there when she took these, but the finished product is something else.
The few images of her in the dresses will forever be ingrained in my mind, but then… then she stops at one of the pictures of her not wearing a shirt.
You can’t see anything in the pictures, but damn. I think my brain may have short-circuited for a second.
“Let me guess, this one is your favorite,” she says wryly. Her voice is soft, and I realize it’s because she’s right next to me. As in, our faces are nearly pressed cheek to cheek. I can smell the feminine and floral aroma of her soap. I can feel the heat from her body. All while looking at a nearly topless photo of her.
Am I getting turned on?
No. No way.
“Why would you say that?” I ask hoarsely, trying to play it cool.
“Oh, I don’t know. Just the way your breath hitched when I stopped on this one.” That didn’t happen. “And I specifically remember wearing this outfit and you saying, ‘I love tits.’” Ok, yeah, I did say that.
I take a step away from her. I have to. “Well, I do. Not yours, though.” Ok, that was a dumb thing to say and not true at all.
The smile falls slightly from her face, but she recovers quickly. “Oh gee, thanks.”
“Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just, I can’t be looking at your tits. I’m not looking at your tits.”
She tilts her head to the side just slightly as if she’s trying to understand. “Why?”
“Because you’re my client. It’s inappropriate.” She looks at me like she’s waiting for more reasons. Better reasons. So I hit her with the best one I’ve got. “You have a boyfriend. Remember?”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Do I? You know he hasn’t called or texted me once since we left L.A.?”
What? That was almost two weeks ago now.
I would ask her why she’s still with him, but she’s already told me that she feels like she can’t leave him. But she deserves so much better than him. There’s no chance he’s not sleeping around behind her back. As much as I hate to wish this on anyone, I hope she finds out because I think that’ll be the kick in the ass she needs to end things.
“Hmm,” I say in response because nothing else feels right.
Her eyebrows raise. “That’s all you have to say?”
“I’ve told you before, Calla. You deserve better than him, but you won’t end it.” I gently cup her chin with my hand and move her face toward the mirror. “Look at you. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You’re smart. You care about other people. You work so damn hard for your fans. And you’re the least bit upset about Thompson fucking Sledge? That man doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.”
I’ve said more than I should. I know that by the way that she’s looking at me in the reflection. Except she’s not mad. Instead, she looks defeated. Something about that look makes me want to make her feel better. I shouldn’t care; I know that deep down. But I do fucking care. And that’s what spurs my next move.
I move my hand down from her chin to collar her throat. Her eyes widen as they watch my hand in the mirror, and she leans into my body. All she wants is to be touched, to be cared for, to be loved. And every person in her life treats her like a pawn for them to move around. The selfish part of me wants me to be the one to make her feel like the woman she is.
My hand travels from her neck to her chest. She’s not wearing a bra under her baggy T-shirt. I’ve noticed she’s not really a fan of them. Normally it drives me crazy when I can see her nipples poking through her shirt, but today I’m grateful for it.
I gently run my thumb over her nipple to gauge her reaction. Her breath hitches, and she bites down on her bottom lip.
Fuck. She wants me to do this. She wants me to touch her, and damn it, I want to do it.
I lift the hem of her shirt, exposing her bare breast. We both look at her chest in the mirror as I keep her shirt up with my wrist and roll her hard nipple between my fingertips. She gasps, and the sound makes my cock strain against my zipper. Too bad this isn’t for him. This is all for Calla.
“Look at you, Calla. Look how fucking beautiful you are.” Her cheeks flush as her eyes meet mine again.
“Touch me, Luke.”
“Calla…” I am touching her, but I can’t let this go too far. I’ve already crossed a line I shouldn’t have.
“Please, Luke. Make me feel good.”
Goddammit.
I take my other hand off her cheek and lift the other side of her shirt up so both of her breasts are exposed. I’m playing with fire, and I know I’m going to get burned.
“Are you hard, Luke?” she asks breathlessly. She can’t see my lower half since I’m standing behind her. If she could, she wouldn’t be asking that question.
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “Are you wet?”
“Yes.” Her chest moves up and down as her breathing increases. I’m barely touching her, but I can tell she’s so turned on.
I lean down to her ear and gently tug her earlobe with my teeth. She leans to the side, exposing her neck for me. I trail kisses down her neck until I find the perfect spot to suck. I cup her tits as I do, making her moan. The sound is music to my ears.
I do it again, and she whimpers my name.
Then… the worst possible thing happens.
The fucking door opens. It seems I’ve forgotten that we’re technically in a public place, and people come and go from her dressing rooms all the time. I quickly shove her shirt down and take a step away, turning to face the wall to get my dick to calm down.
“Calla, ready for hair?” Ashley asks as she steps through the doorway.
Calla clears her throat and re-situates herself in the chair. “Yep.”
“Luke,” Ashley says my name like she’s confused. She’s certainly not the only one. I don’t know how I ended up here and with a raging boner, no less. “What are you doing in here?”
“Just, ya know, seeing if Calla needed anything.”
“Oh, well, that’s actually my job, so you can go.”
I meet Calla’s gaze one more time in the mirror. “Yep, yeah, good idea. I’ll just be out here.” I gesture toward the hallway.
“Ok…” Ashley says slowly. Shit, I’m being weird, aren’t I?
I quickly leave the room and close the door behind me, standing against the wall to catch my breath. What am I doing? I run my hands down my face.
I can’t do this with her. She’s my client. I’m supposed to be keeping her safe, not touching her in places I shouldn’t be. No matter how much she wants it. No matter how much I want it. And god, did I want it.
The catering table isn’t far from Calla’s dressing room, so I walk over to it and grab a bottle of water to cool down. I can’t do that again. I can’t give in to the temptation.
Taking a deep breath, I walk back to her dressing room and take my position by the door. About an hour into doing absolutely nothing, my phone rings, and Cody’s name pops up on the screen. It’s like he knows I’ve done something I shouldn’t.
“Hey man, everything ok?” I ask.
“Yeah, all good here. Just calling to check in on you. See how it’s going.”
“It’s… good. No issues.”
“No issues?” he questions like that’s a weird thing to say. Is it? I don’t know. Everything seems weird today.
“Yeah. Everything is good. Tour is good. I’m good. Calla is good.” At least I think she’s good. I couldn’t really get a read on her when I practically sprinted out of her dressing room. She looked frustrated but it could’ve been because we were interrupted. It was a good thing we were, though, because I don’t know if I would’ve stopped otherwise. That would’ve been terrible.
“Everything is good,” Cody repeats. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”
“Well, your voice is like three octaves higher than usual and you’re saying everything is good when I know you don’t want to be on tour with a popstar. And you said good like ten times.”
“Well, yeah, but I’ve decided to make the best of it.”
“Mhm. You aren’t starting to actually like her, are you?”
“What? No.” But I say it too quickly, and Cody knows I’m lying.
“Luke.”
“What?”
“You can’t.” He doesn’t say what I can’t do, but I know what he means. I don’t know how he knows it, but he does. Even being on the other side of the country, he knows I’m getting myself into something I shouldn’t. I mean, why else would he be calling me today of all days? The one day I let myself put a toe over the line with Calla. The one day I realized I might actually like this woman.
“I’m not,” I say firmly. “Cody, it’s all good. I promise.”
“Alright. Just make sure it stays that way.”
“Got it.”
“So, where are you now and where are you headed next?”
“Uh, I think we’re in Wisconsin today. Then we’re going to Chicago, I think.” The days are all running together.
There’s a pause. “Luke?”
“Yep?”
“You’ll tell me if I need to take you off this assignment, right?”
I swallow. I should tell him. I know I should. My gut is telling me to get away from here, far away from here. But I can’t do it. “Yeah. ’Course. But I’m good. Don’t worry about me, man.”
He sighs through the phone. I know he doesn’t believe me, but he’s choosing to trust me. I can’t even be mad because I don’t believe me either.